RP:Awakening Demons
|maincast= |launched=October 24, 2012 |run=November 5, 2012— |episodes=3 |status=Ongoing }} The year is 2574. The Interspecies Union remains locked in a bitter war with the Path Walkers, a powerful army of extremist Sangheili still devoted to the religion of the Great Journey. Humanity and the Sangheili, along with the rest of their allies within the Interspecies Union, are now threatened not only by this bloody stalemate but also dozens of other threats both foreign and domestic. The Path Walkers are not the only hostile faction in the galaxy, and now the Interspecies Union's enemies can smell blood in the water. Now new demons emerge from the darkness; some are old, some are new, and some are foes many in the IU would just as soon forget. A new chapter opens in the Against All Odds universe. This may be an age of villains, but it is also an age for heroes. Those with the will and dedication may plant their own print on galactic history in the turbulent times to come. The galaxy needs those brave enough to answer the call to step forward to not only defend the principalities and powers of the galaxy but also shape the future of their galaxy. Rules Joining Most prospective writers have already signed up via this RP's announcement page, but anyone else who wants to join just needs to message me via my talk page. Short of outstanding rule violations, applicants will most likely be admitted quickly and invited to start posting immediately. *''A note on characters: As explained on the forum page, the nature of this RP calls for a range of human characters outside the UNSC's military forces. While military personnel are permitted, there is also a great need for non-military humans, namely criminals, insurrectionists, and plainclothes civilians. Also, short of unique circumstances no more Spartan characters will be allowed to join.'' Posting As a rule, don't post consecutively (i.e. two separately numbered posts written by the same person). There's no solid rules about how frequently you can post, though it's probably best to wait until two or three others have posed before writing again. I can't stress enough how much you are encouraged to stay in contact with other writers. Collaborate with your posts, get your characters to interact with each other. I'll be trying to work with as many people as I can to work characters into the story once it starts, but it will be easier on me and frankly more interesting for you if you take the initiative and arrange meetings, fights, and other events between characters. The more people you have writing about or even mentioning your characters, the more interested readers will be in what you're doing with those characters within the story. Finally, be ambitious. I may be the ultimate arbiter of the overall plot, but I've seen too many RPs where people lost interest because their characters and posts had no bearing on what was going on. Again, I'll be doing my best to give your characters chances to stand out, but at the end of the day the person who can do that best is you. If your posts do cause problems (i.e. making your characters know things they shouldn't know, excessively interfering with other writers without their permission, being nonsensical or overtly unrealistic) then I'll contact you, explain the problem, and invite you to remove or change it. The Death Rule As I posted in the forum: "Having discussed the general failure of RPs at length with Sona, I have a new rule that I will be implementing in this RP. It's pretty simple: you stop contributing, I kill your characters. All of them. And they'll stay dead, or at least is far as the AAO-verse is concerned. That being said, I won't start dropping bridges if you go a week without posting. If I think you're in danger of running up against this rule, then I'll give you a quick head's up and maybe some suggestions about what to do with your characters. This will be followed by a couple warnings, but after that you're done. I will inventively and mercilessly kill off your characters and that will be that. Now if there's a genuine problem (i.e. the real world) preventing you from writing, either message me or talk to me on the IRC and we can work something out. This rule isn't here to punish you, just encourage people not to drop their commitment to the project just because they don't feel like writing anymore." Writers and Characters *'Mordred': An enigmatic mercenary and arms dealer who knows himself only by his odd pseudonym. Although he projects an appearance of cheerful self-confidence, he is a morally bankrupt shell of a man whose true motives and intentions are unclear. **Jonah: Mordred's only companion, this child soldier is doggedly loyal to his "boss" who saved him from a colonial battlefield two years previously. *'Shepard-A294' (a.k.a. "The Reaper"): Formerly a SPARTAN-III of Alpha Company, Shepard is the only survivor of Operation: PROMETHEUS. His existence his unknown to the UNSC or any of his Spartan brethren, and he is currently a high-ranking enforcer for the Syndicate. His shadowy ambitions stretch far beyond a life of crime, and he lives by his own harsh code of honor. **Nimue: Raised from infancy to be an Insurrectionist assassin, the girl code-named "Nimue" knows little of life away from the battlefield. A lethal combatant, she is currently in Shepard's employ and is his chief accomplice. **Diana: This rogue Insurrectionist A.I. was once the companion of renegade Spartan Simon-G294. She has since become Shepard's partner and confidant. Contemptuous of organic "meatbags," she nonetheless finds herself entertained by their trials and tribulations. *'Thomas Martel': An aged UNSC scientist who has done extensive research on Sangheili anatomy and has accomplished numerous feats in medical science, engineering, and weapons research. *'Jun-A266': Formerly the rifleman of the disbanded Noble Team, and currently serving as Dr. Martel's guardian angel of sorts (character to be shared with Ladylaconia). *'Lt. Col Forenson': An ODST officer in charge of the human military task force present. *'Iris Sabio' (a.k.a. "Constance"): A high-ranking Syndicate member and a descendent of the revered Dr. Sabio; a prodigy as well as a CQB expert. *'Jackson-A104 and Valor Team': An elite group of only 3 SPARTAN-IIIs responsible for a majority of ONI classified missions both planetary and intergalactic currently serving the Interspecies Union *'Dotto': One of the first of the secret 'Intelligent' AI program, Dotto is extremely versatile in the multiple fields of science. The AI has been known for numerous accounts of being the harbinger of multiple deaths such as the disbandment of Noble Team during the infamous Fall of Reach. *'Ariadne Harvard': A prodigy with multiple specialties and has a brilliant academic and scientific performance. Ariadne has been praised as being among the smartest women of the 26th century, almost rivaling Catherine Halsey. *' ': A special-operations agent with a classified agenda dating back during the early days of the Human-Covenant War. *'Viktor Aagard': An agent of the Interspecies Union and veteran of alien-related missions. His former allegiance to the Office of Naval Intelligence has made himself almost regret becoming a spy in the first place. *'Sepia-G330': Believed dead for nearly a decade, Sepia has avoided UNSC detection by staying on the borders of human-colonized space. In search of power for her own goals, she has cautiously returned to the Outer Colonies through illicit channels looking to find the location of a particular Forerunner relic. *'SgtMaj. Pete Stacker': A veteran Marine looking towards his retirement, Stacker has seen more than most ever will. Still, one last drop may hold its share of the unexpected for him. **SSgt. Chips Dubbo: Looking to Stacker as a mentor, Dubbo has finally come into his own fighting the Covenant Remnant and intends to continue his career in the Marine Corps. The trials ahead involving the Insurrection, however, may shake his resolve. **Cpl. Manyara Abda: Joining after her home was destroyed in the Battle of Earth, Abda is an expert in unarmed combat. She's extremely loyal to the UEG, despising aliens and rebels alike. *'Stephen Leibowitz': Head of the marginalized , Leibowitz is attending the summit to represent the interests of civilians in the colonies while the UNSC plan military action. His election to Director of the CAA was partially thanks to the Syndicate, but with Chairman Locke cracking down on corruption, Leibowitz is hasty to sever the ties, which the Syndicate would see as a broken deal. *'Ash Mitchell': An ODST-turned mercenary after becoming disillusioned with the UNSC. He was framed by an associate after a robbery turned into a massacre, and is currently on the run as a wanted terrorist after his name was also found in connection to several hijackings and Insurrectionist groups. *'Carlos Driscol': A former URF leader and veteran of the Mamore conflict, among other battles, he is in hiding after faking his death twice. He has many dealings with the criminal underworld, running a black market operation in trading alien weapons and other goods while only looking out for number one. *'Layla-B101': A SPARTAN-III and former headhunter, Layla spent several years in Covenant captivity before escaping. The experience left her mentally unstable, leading to her being assigned far-off missions by ONI to keep her out of the way. She is currently acting as a protector and partner to Redford. *'Alexander Redford': An experienced ONI agent who specialises in deep-cover operations, Redford's skills have not declined with age. He is currently in an uneasy partnership with Layla after years of operating alone. *'Grayson MacMillan': Once an Insurrectionist turned bounty hunter, Grayson escaped from the Innies at the age of twenty years and soon became a mercenary for hire. He has collected quite the infamy in the criminal underworld, due to his prowess for explosives. He is also an expert in thrown weaponry, preferring his collapsible tomahawk. *'Stel 'Vadam': The 57-year-old Sangheilian veteran brother to Thel 'Vadam is still kicking by 2574. In the previous two years he had led a campaign against the Path Walkers as Supreme Commander and is still as recognizable as ever. It's unknown why one of the Sangheili's most commendable commanders is in the immediate vicinity of Thebes, but it's highly likely it's to broker talks with the UNSC. *'Adam Makosky': Originally a UNSC loyalist, Makosky fought on Far Isle and during the Human Covenant War, before defecting to the URF in 2552 with a group of fellow dissidents, and over the 22 years since then, has built a considerable force and stronghold in the Eridanus II asteroid belt. On Thebes he plans to forge an alliance with Carlos Driscol and the Minutemen in order to destroy the Syndicate, and give him control of the URF's course. *'George McClusky': A former URF soldier, McClusky retreated to Venezia after the destruction of the URF on Victoria in 2554. A highly respected airborne trooper and tactical genius, he is in charge of Makosky's entire elite airborne infantry detachment, which is in the forests outside Thebes, waiting for Makosky's orders. *'Elijah Cavorel': A former Mamorian Rebel, Cavorel served during the First Mamore Insurrection, and was allegedly confirmed KIA during Alpha Company's assault on the planet. However, he was rescued and recuperated from his wounds, before roving the galaxy as a freelance mercenary. He now resides in Thebes, and works as a hunter, but is still able to fight. *'Miroslaw Xavier': A former rebel soldier on Soyuz, Xavier was captured during the UNSC's attack on the planet, and eventually escaped from the POW camp, becoming a mercenary among various Insurrectionist groups. *'Bohater-B078': A rogue Insurrectionist Beta Company SPARTAN-III, Bohater-B078 is in Thebes of his own accord, planning to weaken both the UNSC and Syndicate while a great number of their officials are in Thebes during the summit. The Story With no end in sight to the conflict with the Path Walkers, the Interspecies Union plans to host a summit in order to confirm its own commitment to galactic unity and make plans for the orchestration of the rest of the war. The city chosen to host this gathering is Thebes, a sprawling metropolis with a history that stretches back decades before the start of the Great War. But the summit is not the only focus in Thebes. The city is also the birthplace of the Syndicate, the sprawling criminal empire that dominates underworld markets throughout the IU. Its power and authority have gone unchecked and unchallenged for decades, but now forces are stirring that hope to loosen the Syndicate's iron grip on drug trades, arms dealing and most importantly, the flow of equipment and funding to what remains of humanity's insurrectionist movement. And into this swirling cauldron of intrigue walks a man with no beliefs or morals to call his own. Without even a name, he prepares to send the dominoes toppling over. The board is set, and the pieces are already in motion. Factions *'UEG/UNSC': As the summit takes place on a UEG colony, UNSC forces are charged with ensuring that the city remains secure and free from danger. *'Sangheili': The second key power to attend the summit, the Sangheili are beginning to waver after years of unchecked warfare following the end of the Great Schism. *'The Syndicate': A criminal empire that used the chaos following the war to seize control of organized crime throughout the IU's member territories. Thebes is one of its key headquarters, and local Syndicate leaders hope to use their influence to keep the summit's outcome in their favor. *'The Minutemen': A loose association of criminals and insurrectionist forces. The Minutemen wish to break the Syndicate's hold on criminal dealings and end their control over the course of the insurrection movement. Unknown to the Syndicate, they are gathering in Thebes and preparing for the coming turf war. *'Civilians': The denizens of Thebes, these ordinary men and women never asked to be caught up in the middle of a war. Unfortunately, fate does not care about whether or not anyone wanted the troubles that befall them. Awakening Demons Prologue = Join the Corps, Zoey Hunsinger’s recruiting sergeant had told her. See the galaxy. Be all you can be. “Incoming!” Zoey had certainly joined the Corps, and she was certainly seeing the galaxy. But right now “all she could be” was looking very much like “dead.” She threw herself low, assault rifle held tight against her chest with one hand and bracing her helmet with the other. The next ten seconds were filled with a thunderous roaring and the painfully familiar triple pounding of the plasma artillery the Path Walkers had been raining down on her batallionfor the past two days. The building, already reduced to charred rubble by constant streams of plasma fire, shook and groaned under its own failing weight. She had to get out now, or she’d be burned alive when the white-hot roof caved in around her. “C’mon, Hunsinger!” Sergeant Metsker’s booming voice roared from somewhere off to the side. “Get your head out of your ass and fall back!” Zoey was all too eager to obey. She leapt away from her crumbling cover, half running and half tripping in her haste to get clear. Plasma rounds hummed and flashed around her; it was all she could do to keep her grip on her rifle as she ducked through the door and out into the street. Gemini Sigma had not been a vacation resort to begin with, but two days of the Path Walkers’ assault had reduced it to a living hell. Prefab buildings burned everywhere she looked, the streets around them carved to pieces by artillery blasts and strafing runs from the Seraphs and Banshees that had been bombing with impunity since the battle began. The shattered chases of trucks and Warthogs were piled everywhere, either pushed to the side or converted into makeshift barricades, and the ragged silhouettes of human beings—armed or otherwise—crept amongst it all like bewildered ants. She was no stranger to scenes of horror. As a young teen she’d survived Brute captivity, the grueling criminal underworld of the frontier colonies, and war zones on planets far more alien than Gemini Sigma. But Zoey still couldn’t completely shut out the screams that rose up above the plasma and gunfire, mingling with the smoke overhead to create a hideous, deafening symphony. “Hunsinger, move it!” Metsker emerged from a column of smoke like some ghostly apparition. The stout sergeant was practically naked, most of his uniform and armor burnt away by plasma heat. Hideous, oozing welts and blisters covered his body, yet he still gripped his rifle with a purpose and bellowed orders as easily as if they were on a drill field. “Get your ass to fallback position!” Two other Marines staggered up to join them. Zoey recognized one as Yosef, from her own squad, but the other man was a stranger. She didn’t bother to ask where everyone else was. The four of them hurried down the street. Metsker led the way while Zoey and Yosef did their best to support the new guy, a glassy-eyed Private who looked as if he was ready to lie down and die. With the noise and the heat and the gut-ripping fear bearing down on her, it was all Zoey could do not to throw herself down and collapse with him. But she couldn’t die here. She had to make it out of this. They were halfway to the rally point when Metsker glanced back past them and towards the position they’d just abandoned. His eyes widened and he spun back, yelling incoherently and waving them down. Zoey and the other Marines threw themselves flat as Metsker let out a series of bursts from his rifle. His soot-covered mouth bared in a snarl as blue plasma cut through the air around him. He got off four good bursts before a beam burnt through his shoulder and threw him back against the nearest building. He kept the rifle up and fired once more before an artillery blast tore the building behind him apart. Heat washed over Zoey; she had one last look at her sergeant, caught against the blinding light of the explosion. Then he was gone. The glass-eyed Private wailed and covered his head, but Zoey was already rolling over onto her back and bringing her rifle to bear. The metal scorched her hands through her tattered gloves; she gritted her teeth against the pain and kept her grip. Just like Simon would have done. At the other end of the street, two large, hunched figures advanced towards them. She could just barely make out the dull armor of Path Walker warriors through the smoke, but that didn’t matter. There were no friendly hinge-heads on this rock, just ones that wanted very much to kill her and every other human here. Things aren’t supposed to be like this, she thought distantly as she blazed away at the warriors. We shouldn’t be losing like this. The vids her drill sergeants had shown her and the other recruits during Basic had all said the same thing: We were outgunned and outnumbered during the Great War and we still won. Things aren’t like that now. We have the advantage. But any “advantage” portable shield generators and fancy artillery with tight-beam targeting had been burned away by the first hours of the Path Walker attack, leaving Zoey and her comrades with armor and weapons that were only a step above what they’d been during the Great War. And they were being slaughtered all the same. Yosef was also firing, his battle rifle chinking away at the warriors’ shields from behind a fortuitously placed bit of rubble. “What’s the plan, Lance Corporal?” he yelled in between shots. Zoey had been so caught up in the shock of losing Metsker that she hadn’t realized that she was now in charge. Yosef and the panicking Private beside her were suddenly her responsibility. Metsker and the others, the veterans and heroes who had fought the Covenant and the rebels and the Fallen, were all gone. She hadn’t even been in the service for a year, and now she needed to get two guys who’d probably signed up at the same time she had back to the rally point. If she didn’t die right here. Her assault rifle clicked empty, but the last few rounds flew true. One of the warriors stumbled as his shields failed. Yosef brought him down with a burst through his throat. She fumbled with her grenade pouch, priming one and throwing it as hard as she could at the remaining warrior. He vanished in a burst of smoke and flames; Zoey didn’t wait to see if he emerged again. She pushed herself to her feet and snapped her empty rifle onto the magnetic clamps on her back. Miraculously, they still worked. She and Yosef hauled the trembling Private up and took off again down the street. The plasma barrage was still coming down all around them, causing a miniature earthquake that threatened to knock them flat once again. Zoey was struck with a sudden memory from another time, another stricken city, stumbling behind the slim, armored figure of the mercenary known to her as Mordred. He had gotten her through that hell and now it was her job to get these guys through this one. “We’re almost there,” she panted. “Keep it up.” The words sounded hollow, even to her, but they did their job. Yosef and the Private kept with her and didn’t falter until they reached the rally point. Sooty-faced sentries waved them over a wall composed of a burnt-out Scorpion and piled up chunks of rubble. Only a handful of others were waiting on the other side. Zoey helped Yosef set the shivering Private down before looking desperately around for anyone who might be in charge. “Lance Corporal Hunsinger?” She found herself face to face with a young lieutenant who could very well have been her own age. With a start, she recognized Lieutenant Self, the company chaplain. “Sir!” she acknowledged, reloading her rifle. “Sergeant Metsker had us fall back. He didn’t make it, sir.” “Metsker?” the chaplain demanded. “Where’s the rest of Bravo Platoon? Where’s Lieutenant Andon?” “Um, I don’t know, sir.” So they were the only ones from Bravo to pull back. Or maybe they were the only ones left to fall back. Zoey could only hope that some people were still out there, but if Chaplain Self was the one doing head counts then things had to be going even worse than she’d thought. “Sir, who’s in charge here?” The chaplain’s jaw worked. Like Metsker, much of his fabric uniform had been burnt away. From the looks of things, he’d carved a rank insignia and a cross into the front of his helmet. “Right now, Corporal,” he said after a moment. “It looks like I am.” He turned away to help a Navy medic with a patient, leaving Zoey to rejoin Yosef by the rubble wall. “No one else from Bravo’s made it back,” she told him dully. He groaned and leaned on his rifle like a crutch. “We’re fucked.” “Keep it together,” she told him, patting him on the back. “We’ll pull through.” Simon would have said the same thing, though Zoey figured he might not have been quite as friendly about it. From what she’d seen during her travels with him, Metsker and any one of the NCOs who had died back on the line had been a better shot than the bitter, sarcastic ex-Spartan but somehow she knew he would have walked away from the fight that had killed them just like he’d walked away from all the others. He’d have slipped away from the Path Walkers and maybe even caused them a bit of trouble in the process, but no matter what the odds he was up against, he'd always survived. At least until the last time, the part of her that she was fighting to push away told her. He couldn’t survive everything. She gripped her rifle and faced the wall. Simon had died for her back above the hinge-head homeworld. She’d become a Marine to honor that sacrifice, to honor it and try to make it so no one else had to watch their family get slaughtered in front of them like she had. But Bravo Platoon had been her family, hadn’t it? She’d been just as helpless to save them as she’d been when her parents had died. Zoey shook her head, chasing away the guilt and fear. She’d gotten Yosef and the other man back. That was what counted. She could almost see Simon glaring at her from across the huddle of battered Marines. Get your act together, his ghost sneered. Do you want to die on this rock? She glanced up the makeshift wall. There were hinge-head voices in the air now, war chants and battle cries that cut through her grimy skin and chilled her to the bone. She adjusted her grip on the rifle; any second now someone would be ordering them up, back over the wall to continue the fight. “Incoming, incoming!” The renewed plasma barrage rocked the city to its very foundations. Peels of light streamed down like divine judgement all around them, tearing their way through buildings as if the heavens themselves wanted to wipe the settlement off the face of the planet. Zoey and Yosef huddled against the base of the wall, minds and ears ringing from the noise, the trembling, and the sheer animal fear that they had been drilled so hard to conquer and ignore. “Here they come!” someone screamed through her helmet’s earpiece. Zoey forced her eyes upwards, half deafened by the intensity of the barrage. One of the sergeants atop the wall waved frantically at those below. For a moment the sergeant was there; then a plasma bolt struck her and threw her into the air. Half a dozen more perforated her before she could hit the ground. “Move up! Get up to the wall! Move it, move it!” Lieutenant Self was beside them now. The chaplain was still unarmed, but even so he scrambled halfway up the rampart and beckoned furiously for those behind to follow. Zoey saw his wide, frightened eyes for just a moment; then the chaplain had turned his face away and was back to climbing the wall. That nut’s going to get himself killed, Zoey thought, realizing they were about to lose the last officer in their battalion. Someone had to drag him back down from there. She threw herself up after him, hoping to grab his ankle before he reached the top. But suddenly there was a deafening roar from behind her, one that didn’t come from plasma bursts or alien mandibles. Then Marines were all around, climbing beneath and beside and above her in their surge to reach the top. “Yeah, corporal!” Yosef yelled, scaling past her. “We’re all gonna die!” She stared for another moment. Then the wave of Marines caught her up and pushed her to the top of the wall. There was no time to even take in the oncoming enemy. Zoey let her instincts take over, losing herself to the momentum as she thrust her assault rifle forward and fired down into the smoke. There was no need to aim; all she needed to do was point and shoot. Yosef was on her left; the chaplain, her right. As the plasma soared up and down, as the earth shook and Marines fought and died all around her, Zoey Hunsinger closed her eyes against the heat and fired down at her enemy again and again and again. *** Several miles away, a pair of very different eyes peered down at one of the Path Walkers’ artillery batteries through a rifle scope. He licked his lips and turned aside to take a gulp of water from the canteen beside him. Everything was going according to plan. There was no sense in dehydrating himself over an op as routine as this. He clicked his earpiece on and set it to one of its pre-set frequencies. “Hey, Jonah, how’s everything going?” “It’s hard to tell,” a thin, reedy voice replied. “The Path Walkers are definitely winning, though.” “Oh, really?” he retorted, but there was no real fire behind the rebuke. “Another brilliant observation from the obvious department. I’ll call you up next time I need to hear something I already know.” “Sorry, boss,” Jonah replied defensively. “But from where I am...” “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What’s the artillery fire look like?” “They’re really letting the UNSC have it. And there are Phantoms and Banshees all over the place.” He nodded, refocusing his rifle on the battery beneath him as it steadily lobbed shot after shot into the air. “Yep, sounds like the ass-kicking we expected. Okay, hightail it back to the fallback point and keep a low profile till I show up.” “Got it, boss.” Keeping one eye on the battery, he opened up a new frequency. “Pula, how’re you doing down there?” “My preparations are complete,” warbled a new voice, this one slightly lower and raspier. “And what have I told you about contacting me at this stage of an operation?" “That you like it and want me to do it more often?” “Your attempt at humor does not amuse me, human. Just as it failed to amuse me the last fifty times you broke transmission silence." “That’s ‘cause I know how lonely you get, Pula,” he teased, easing himself deeper into his makeshift observation post. “Now, you ready to pull out?” “Yes,” she replied. “And stop contacting me. It is distracting.” “Oh, you know you like it.” He closed the link, allowing himself a self-satisfied grin as he reached for the control pad fastened to the arm of his ODST-style field armor. You had to get what kicks you could out of your job, especially when it came to his line of work. His name was Mordred, and yes, he knew that it was a silly name. Maybe he’d had a real name, a proper name at some point in his murky past. Maybe he’d had a family and a regular job and place in human society. But if he had, he couldn’t remember them. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t particularly care to rediscover them anyway. Judging from the feelings of loathing and contempt that washed to the surface whenever he wasted time reflecting on the life he had once led, it hadn’t been a life much worth living anyway. In his memories and in his dreams, there was pain, there was fire, and there was a face that he knew to hate with every fiber of his being. And after that, there was only the life he lived now, one spent on battlefields just like this one. The Path Walkers were steamrolling this region of Gemini Sigma faster than Mordred had expected, but he always had a back up plan. In this case, the backup plan was simply to do things a bit ahead of schedule. “Alright, Commander ‘Yuthr,” he muttered, watching the artillery crew pause to change out a spent energy canister. “You’ve had your fun. Too bad you never read the fine print in my contract.” ‘Yuthr, the Sangheili in charge of this particular Path Walker legion, had been all too eager to snap up the plasma artillery when Mordred had gotten him in touch with the right Syndicate agents. Arms dealing was just one of his many talents, and with the war on like it was he was making quite a tidy side profit off of it. Of course, he had other obligations to fulfill. And those obligations said that the Path Walkers could only be allowed to win for little bit. Now, their time was up. Pula opened her frequency again. “I have withdrawn. Commander ‘Yuthr is dead.” “That’s what I love about you, Pula. You’re so good at stabbing things.” She signed off with an irritated huff. Mordred couldn’t help but smile again as he reached down for his gauntlet pad. It was a shame Yuthr wouldn’t be around to see his entire offensive fall to pieces around his ear-holes, but then again he wasn’t the first Path Walker commander to be done in by arrogance. He certainly wouldn’t be the last. Mordred raised the gauntlet and grinned down at the artillery emplacement. “And boon.” he muttered, pulling a bit of amused satisfaction out of the little phrase as he brought his finger down on the keypad. Nothing happened. “What?” Mordred scowled down at the artillery crew as they continued the bombardment obviously. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. A dozen contingencies raced through Mordred’s mind. He’d have to get Pula in again to check things out, which would be even harder once the Path Walkers found out their commander had been murdered. They’d have to reposition and get in place for Plan B, and in the meantime the Path Walkers would finish mopping up the rest of the UNSC troops out here. Even worse, he’d be stuck on this rock for a few more weeks while he got everything sorted out, all because someone had screwed up with a few wires somewhere down the line in what was supposed to be a routine job. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. He took an angry swig from his canteen, then raised his finger again and mashed the keypad button as hard as he could. On the fourth push, the pad’s green indicator light winked on. Two miles below him, the artillery emplacement exploded. Blue-tinged flames erupted from the base of the gun, igniting the surrounding fuel cells and triggering a blast that ripped through the artillery, its crew, and the fortifications around it. A handful of warriors survived the destruction, crying out in pain and surprise from amidst the charred rubble and corpses of their fallen comrades. "Oh," Mordred said. "There we go. Boom." Mordred adjusted his rifle and scanned the ridge beyond the destroyed emplacement. Sure enough, smoke was rising from dozens of spots along the horizon. The sheets of plasma that had been shooting up and away towards the settlement had stopped completely. He reopened Pula’s channel. “So, how’d you like the fireworks?” “All emplacements have been destroyed,” she reported. “And the anti-air batteries just went offline. The generator that powered them developed a serious malfunction.” “And I didn’t even sell that one to them,” Mordred said with a grin. “You’ve been a busy girl, Pula.” “Indeed. The humans should have air support shortly.” Pula’s tone was distinctly chilly. “What’s wrong now?” he asked. “It was a pretty neat bit of handiwork, if I do say so myself.” “I do not deny the success of your plan,” she said coldly. “I simply do not take satisfaction from the deaths of my fellow warriors.” “Yeah, yeah, warrior’s honor and all that jazz.” Mordred shook his head. “We’re moving on to phase three, same as always. Have fun out there without me.” He shut the link and glanced back down at the remnants of the Path Walker emplacement. One warrior had limped out of the artillery wreck. One arm hung limp beside him and his shields flickered uselessly as he barked out orders to the surviving crew. For half a second Mordred wondered if he should just shoot him, keep the warriors in disarray for a bit longer. His finger curled around the rifle trigger and he sighted up on the warrior’s chest. But the moment passed. He shook his head and took his finger off the trigger, pushing himself away from the observation hole and creeping away down the hill. A thought occurred to him as he glanced over at the distant smoke rising from the beleaguered settlement. His arms deal had helped the Path Walkers kill countless of the colony’s Marine defenders, and now his sabotage had doubtless killed scores of warriors just like the ones in the valley below. This was by no means his first time playing both sides like this and it would certainly not be the last. With the mysterious destruction of the Path Walkers’ artillery and air defenses, the local UNSC commanders would seize on the opportunity to push forward and retake lost ground. The Path Walkers, having come so close to victory here would throw more troops into the region to keep their offensive from falling apart. And with the battle in orbit a hopeless, grinding stalemate, the fighting for this particular patch of worthless real estate would drag on for quite a bit longer. Mordred’s plan had made all of this possible, yet he had chosen not to kill some alien soldier who would probably wind up dead in the next few days anyway. A minute ago he had killed hundreds with the push of a button and felt only annoyance that it hadn’t worked after the first push and satisfaction when his plan had worked after all. It was a strange feeling, to have such a say in life and death. He filed it away in the back of his mind, something to consider later. Perhaps he’d think about on the shuttle ride to the next battleground. Or maybe he wouldn’t. His employer was the one who wanted the war to drag on, not him. He was just the means to that end, a fate that Mordred was quite comfortable with. The guy on the other end of the paycheck had a plan for all this carnage. Mordred wasn’t big on trust, but he trusted his employer enough not to worry about how this would all pan out in the end. Maybe the person he’d been before, the person whose body he’d been born into after that distant memory of agonizing fire and that beautiful, hated face had scorched themselves into his shattered memory, maybe that person would have been repulsed by such routine death-dealing. Or maybe he’d been as pragmatic about all this as Mordred was. Mordred couldn’t say he cared either way. It didn’t matter a whit what he’d been before anyway. Reaching the bottom of the hill, he made for the patch of boulders where he’d left his Mongoose ATV. He sent a quick signal to Jonah: Get the shuttle prepped, we’re out of here. He wouldn’t be going home from here, because he had no home to go to. For Mordred, there was only the the next battlefield, a new challenge, more plans to be made and carried out. Soon Gemini Sigma and all the people who had died here would be as forgotten as the dozens of other worlds and battles he had made his fortune on. It really wasn’t a bad deal at all, when he thought about it. |-| I = |-| II = |-| III =